Life of the Party
by RepublicGurl
Summary: The Emperor is dead. Lord Scourge is under the impression that his life of oppression, servitude and torture are finally over... until he realizes he is expected to help the Jedi and Republic citizens with a week long celebration on their ancient homeworld of Tython. Turns out his true misery is just beginning. ::Features Jedi Knight story spoilers, companions and NPCs::
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** This entire story is wholeheartedly dedicated to the lovely **Taraum**! The story will feature my Jedi Knight, (a Miraluka woman named Eleya Shevani), her companions and many of the NPCs of the Jedi Knight's story. (And major spoilers for the Knight's story, obviously-so. Ya know; read with _caution._) Don't be surprised to see scenes of silliness and plenty of fluffy moments between multiple characters, even _if _the setting is on Tython, at the Jedi Temple...

The prompt _Taraum _asked for dealt with "**Home Ec**", but with my inability to follow simple directions, I decided to mesh it with the prompt "**Celebrations**".

Hope you like! :D

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><p><strong>::Prologue::<strong>

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><p>Four days since the feared leader of the entire Sith Empire has fallen. In his wildest imaginings, Scourge could not properly adequate what a life would <em>be <em>like without the constant threat of the immortal Emperor looking over his shoulder.

Well, now he knows.

And it consists mainly of an incessant- and incredibly _annoying _-knocking on the door of his assigned chambers within the Jedi Temple's Dormitory Halls.

_Go away, _Scouge sends telepathically through the Force. He is considerate enough to also let his frustration seep through, so whoever is on the other side of the door will be under no delusion of his wanting their company. Mercifully, after a moment, the knocking ceases.

With a sigh of relief, Scourge turns on his side. Finally, he will be able to slip back into the first bit of restful sleep that he hasn't been able to experience in a long time-

_Knock knock._

Scourge's red eyes shoot open, and he briefly contemplates Force choking his unrepentant visitor.

"This had better be _imperative_," Scourge growls under his breath, throwing the covers off of himself and swiftly getting to his feet. He's wearing only a pair of long, black sweat pants and when he glances at the chrono on the bedside table, he sees it's just after five in the morning.

The notion of a Force choke becomes even more appealing.

Moving to the door, Scourge fantasizes about all the ways he can intimidate the person who has the gall to wake him from his sleep. However, when he gets to the door and lifts his hand to the sensor on the wall to unlock it, he suddenly recognizes the unmistakable Force signature on the other side.

His hand freezes, hovering right before touching the pad.

Oh. Oh no. Of course it just _has _to be _her._

_Knock knock knock._

"It's rude to leave your guests waiting on you," says an insultingly good-natured voice, conversationally, on the other side. As if the speaker can see Scourge through the door, standing indecisively on the threshold. (In hindsight, the Sith Lord realizes that she really _can _see him, perfectly, through the Force.)

Scourge finds his thoughts of Force choking are rapidly changing to thoughts of attempting to escape through his bedroom window. Though, knowing the Jedi waiting for him on the other side of his door, he figures he wouldn't actually get very far.

_Force give me strength, _the Sith Pureblood thinks with gritted teeth, before allowing a scowl to settle over his facial features. He presses the sensor hard, and with soft _hiss, _the door slides open to reveal a young, Miraluka woman standing in the hallway. Her arms are clasped together behind her back and a goofy-looking half grin twists up the corner of her lips.

It is far too early in the morning to be so hopeful and optimistic.

"To what do I owe the displeasure of your visit?" Scourge deadpans. Completely unfazed, the Jedi woman's grin morphs into a full-blown smile. Through the Force, Scourge can feel her mounting excitement as if it is his very own.

It makes him want to punch something.

"Good morning, Scourge." Eleya Shevani says, and to Scourge's utter chagrin, the warmth in her voice sounds genuine.

It is far too early in the morning to be so polite.

"What is the emergency?" He inquires, folding his arms across his chest and leaning against the door frame. A look of confusion crosses Leya's face, her brow furrowing above her black eye-covering.

"Why do you think there is an emergency?" she asks, mystified.

Scourge blinks.

"Because there had better be one for you to be bothering me this early in the morning."

Simple enough, really.

"Ah." Leya replies, before giving an understanding nod. She turns her head to the left, and then to the right, as if checking the corridor to make sure she and the Sith are completely alone. She then leans forward, cupping her mouth to keep her voice muffled between the two of them.

Curious, Scourge leans down towards her slightly. His sense of smell has been returning the last three Standard days, though still heavily dulled from his memories prior to his curse. And yet despite only having some of the sense back, it is enough for the subtle, yet fragrant, smell of Leya's hair (zesty pine and sweet apples?) to overwhelm his nose.

Without thought, he inhales deeply to have more of the delicious scent. His mouth waters.

"In that case, I should tell you that it is an emergency of the highest order." Leya says, oblivious to Scourge's strange behavior. Or perhaps she is just becoming more accustomed to him and his ways. Her voice, for all intents and purposes, sounds grave enough to make Scourge straighten to his full height and narrow his eyes.

All notions of his slowly returning senses fade from his mind.

"What has happened?" he demands to know. His mind begins running through various scenarios, from a simple malfunction in the Temple energy generators, to a full scale invasion from the forces of Korriban itself. Fortunately, the later scenario is close to impossible of ever happening, but it never hurts to be prepared.

Leya opens her mouth, and Scourge tenses.

"Some of the imports for the upcoming Festival have arrived, and we're going to be sorting them out today for preparations." She confides, sounding for all the worlds like her statement is of the most vital importance.

Her words are met with momentary silence, and Scourge hopes the heat from his glare gives the insufferable Jedi third degree burns. He feels his fingers tingle, and the Darkness of the Force curls in his chest. He momentarily visualizes reaching out to seize the Miraluka, (preferably by her throat)- or just to _touch _her in any way he can -but then his visualization just seems to freeze at that last, unbidden stray thought...

... and he shakes his head to clear it. Getting violent won't help anything, and he's quite aware of the fact that despite Leya's naturally friendly demeanor, she's more than capable of dis-membering any of his offending body parts should he decide to physically assault her.

Besides, he's trying to _not _get maimed; especially now that the Emperor is gone and he's somewhat free. Free to strive to be more than his basic nature.

"What does any of that have to do with you being here at my door this Force-damned early?" Scourge snarls. He may be working on not acting out his violent impulses physically, but he still has quite a fierce reputation to maintain.

And a temper he is not so inclined to suppress.

Leya brings her hands together in a loud clap in front of her, and she rocks back and forth on the balls of her feet in giddy excitement.

"Because you are going to be helping me sort through all of the imports!" She tells him, as if it should be painfully obvious. "When Master Satele set up a volunteer chart yesterday for assignments before, during and after the Festival of Life, I signed you and I up as working partners!"

Scourge's mind blanks out for a moment, as he is unprepared to accept the pure inconceivability of how _idiotic _the woman before him constantly proves herself to be.

"_Why _would you- you are the _most_-!" Scourge moves his face incredibly close to Leya's; their noses only a hair's breath apart. The warmth and sweet smell of her breath washes over his face like a soothing balm, but he refuses to let himself be pulled off track from his righteous indignation. "I am much more liable to _murder _you, Jedi, than sit next to you and celibrate your Republic holidays; and you _know _this!"

He does not expect for Leya to lose her temper; he has never seen her do so in all of the time he has known her. And yet, he _is _unprepared for the change in her demeanor.

"Of course I do," Leya says in response, her voice soft.

The abrupt change from her excitement to now one of relative calm and meekness pulls Scourge up short. Her tone is laced with the weight of reluctant awareness and resigned acceptance. "I am not ignorant of where your true allegiances lie, _Lord _Scourge," she tells him, and the subtle derision in her voice makes Scourge wince back slightly.

She rarely sounds overtly disapproving; but when she does, there is a heaviness to it, to her convictions, that makes even the Dark in Scourge flicker in hesitation and unease.

"But I would think that with all of the time you and I have spent together- and _taking down the Emperor _-you would be more open to experiencing things like... oh, I do not know- _joy? _Having _fun? _Or is that against your Sith Code and I am wasting my time? Because, by all means, please let me know now so I can spare myself the inevitable heartbreak in the future."

Scourge cannot resist the temptation to snark back.

"No; fun is not against our Code. I'm surprised you even know what fun _is_, Jedi, as I'm sure that it's more than against _yours._"

And just like that, the Leya he knows is back; a slow, wry grin forming on her mouth. Faint dimples in her cheeks, that Scourge has seen more times than he can count everytime the Jedi finds a reason to smile or laugh, make their timely appearance.

Scourge exhales at seeing this, refusing to claim his sigh as one of relief.

"That sounds like a statement of fact, Lord Scourge," Leya surmises, cheek in her tone. This time, when she uses his honorary title, is is more playful than chastising. She takes a step closer, and Scourge finds himself pressing his back against the door frame. A soft chuckle escapes the Jedi, and this time it is she who is leaning her face up towards his. "Allow me the opportunity to prove you _wrong."_

And with that ominous statement, Leya turns and starts to walk away. Scourge continues to stand there, wondering what she could possibly be talking about-

"Meet me in the kitchens in thirty minutes," Leya calls over her shoulder. Scourge's nostrils flare.

"And what if I do not show?" he challenges for the sake of it. Leya turns to face him, continuing to walk backwards. Her smile turns somewhat devious, and something like liquid heat singes through Scourge's veins to know that smile is aimed at _him_.

"I will drag you there myself, kicking and screaming." She sing-songs pleasantly, before righting herself around and disappearing around the end of the hallway, her footsteps inaudible even on the hard, marble floor. Retreating back into the safety of his room, Scourge runs the palm of his hand over his face.

He eyes his bed, contemplating burying himself beneath his covers once again, but Leya's threat is fresh in his ears. With a sigh, he moves to gather some clothes and head to the 'fresher.

He isn't the most gifted of psychics, but _something _tells him it's going to be a long day.

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><p><strong>TBC.<strong>

**How is it so far, guys? Like it? Love it? Hate it? What would you like to see? (It's not all written out- I'm open for suggestions!) :D**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Here is some more story, for ya. And I _apologize _so very much for the long hiatus, guys! I swear, if I didn't have a life... life would be so much _easier _and I could write more often!

And, more specifically still to **Taraum**, thank you for being marvelously patient! Once again, this is for you my friend! I hope you enjoy! :)

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><p><strong>::Chapter One::<strong>

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><p>Sauntering through the Temple's halls, feeling only slightly better and more awake after his morning ablutions, Scourge eyes the few others meandering around as early as he. Of course, most of them being a Youngling here and there pairing up as they went to their destinations, with a few Knights scattered in between. The Pureblood isn't quite sure if he feels delighted, or even somewhat <em>empathetic, <em>at the lackluster in the eyes of the Jedi as they, too, seem to be dismayed at having to be up so early.

The other awake inhabitants, however, become a distant memory rather quickly as Scourge leaves the hall through a side door, and out into the Tythonian spring morning.

Living for centuries without the five senses, one grows accustomed to actually... living without them. And there is no more a vivid way to remember what it is like to see or feel things, than to suddenly be able to do so after forgetting what it is like in the first place. For Scourge, his memory of smell seems to be on the verge of overload, as his olfactory organs finally start to assimilate better, and the scents around him grow steadily stronger.

Take now, for instance.

Even this simple walk from the Dormitory Halls to the large domed building that served as kitchens and dining hall, and Scourge finds the abundance of smells nearly overwhelming. And yet- such intimate pleasure to be able to smell _grass _again! Pungent grass, with the underlying hint of wet earth, due to the early morning mist and dew drops weighing upon each blade of grass and flower petal.

As Scourge moves closer to the entrance to the kitchens, the heavy clouds start to part slowly. Faint tendrils of yellow, orange and pink light curl up over the horizon as the sun decides to finally make an appearance. And though his sense of smell has been slowly returning to him, his ability to discern finer colors has not- the splendor to the sunrise completely lost to him.

Letting the door slide open, the smells turn from nostalgic to enticing and delicious.

The former Wrath's smell may be taking its sweet precious time in returning fully, and his discrimination of color nonexistent;but his hearing works perfectly well. Which explains the noise of clanging pans, and the cadence of voices that assaults his ears almost immediately upon fully stepping inside. A couple of kitchen droids whirl past as Scourge walks deeper into the foyer, the entrance door swishing close silently behind him. Eyeing the mix of warm cream wood in the walls and ceiling blending (albeit tastefully) with the stormy gray of the hard floors and window moldings -appearing only in shades of dark gray and lighter gray to the Sith -Scourge takes the doorway to the left.

He follows it down a corridor laced with high, transparisteel windows facing out to the Tythonian skyline of the west, and figures he is going in the right direction because the noise of the pans is getting louder.

_It sounds like another war is brewing, _the Sith thinks idly, getting to the end of the corridor and stopping at the threshold.

The clanging and voices continue unabated, but now at least Scourge has video to go with the audio. In the incredibly large kitchen space (and its marvelous in itself that the building itself hold three separate kitchenettes within its walls, this being the central and most popular) the stretch of tables and counter tops are laden heavy with a wide assortment of culinary utensils, some unopened boxes, and two sinks are running water freely from the faucets. The floor is just as cluttered, though mainly with crates and boxes that have small labels on them.

Droids move about, shuffling items and assorting them into their proper places.

The smell of food is enough to draw Scourge's attention away from the disarray to the long table winding at the back of the kitchen. It is the longest counter top in the room, running the entire length of the back wall, and creating a "L" shape as it bends at the adjacent wall and follows it until it is broken by a set of large, double ovens. The ovens are on and seem to be occupied, but it is the assortment of breakfast foods piled thick and high on the back counter top that nearly has Scourge licking his lips.

"... it's not a problem, my lovely friend." a familiar male's voice comes into focus on Scourge's right. Turning his gaze, he sees Doc walking next to Leya, both of them coming in through another entrance. Both Jedi Master and combat medic appear pleasantly awake and aware, and both have their arms full; Leya carrying a large silver bowl with the top covered in plastic wrap, and Doc with two large sacks of grain in both hands. Doc has his face turned towards Leya, his patented grin working overtime hours, and it is Leya who notices Scourge's presence first.

She turns to him, and another smile is sent his way.

But Scourge is not affected this time- he is still somewhat preoccupied with the sight of so much _food. _Natural, organic food that was actually grown- not replicated or pre-made simply to be heated later. His internal rage at the Hero of Tython can be put on hold until _after _he's sample some Corellian waffles and had a bit of a grilled omelette.

"So you've decided to join us," she says happily, and Scourge rolls his eyes. As if _she _wasn't the obnoxious one who'd roused him from his sleep. Doc looks over in his direction, and a look of genuine surprise flutters over his face.

"I didn't know you were gonna help out, Red," he says bluntly, coming to an abrupt halt right in the middle of the kitchen. A droid scurries around him, letting out an irritated string of beeps and whirls.

Scourge grinds his teeth.

"I _wasn't,_" he insists. And then, after a moment's pause, his eyes narrow. "And do _not _call me _Red._"

"In any case," Leya cuts in smoothly, just as Doc is opening his mouth for a rebuttal. "We're glad you _are _here- we are going to need as much help as we can get."

Scourge doesn't find enough time to reply, before someone else speaks up.

"What new fresh hell is this?" A low, sleep-laden voice growls next to the Sith warrior in the threshold. Two pairs of eyes (and Leya) turn to take in the sight of a glaring Kira Carsen, with her arms folded across her chest and barely hidden disdain in her cobalt blue eyes. Her hair is slightly unkempt and damp from an earlier shower, and her informal Jedi attire looks as if it had been put on hastily and last minute.

Being right next to her, Scourge can feel Kira's exhaustion and crankiness brushing against his own wariness in the Force. It makes him want to be grumpy and insufferable all over again.

This time, it is Doc whose face lights up. The smile he wore earlier brightens tenfold.

"_Heeey _beau-" he starts, but doesn't get to finish.

"_Save it,_" Kira snaps, and Doc just continues to smile, though there is a glint of mischief in his eyes. "What's this I hear about me being volunteered to help with the preparations of Festival?" she asks.

Scourge blinks.

_So I am not the only victim, _he thinks with relish. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, he feels _slightly _better at not being the only one conned into this ridiculous holiday. Leya lets out a pleased hum.

"I'm glad to hear that," she states. "I didn't know you were volunteering."

"Neither did I," Kira tells her. "But, apparently, I _am. _At least, that's the gist of it when Master Satele found me in my quarters this morning to thank me personally. Only..." Kira's face turns murderous and Scourge briefly wonders if he's been wasting his time in the persuasion of the Dark Side on the wrong Jedi. "I cannot, for the _life _of me, remember ever signing up my name."

Leya looks sincerely confused about her friend's predicament, but Doc shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly.

"I figured since I was going to help, and knowing how much you enjoy my company, I was doing you a favor and signed us up together." Doc admits.

"You _what?!_"

_Yes, embrace the Dark Side, _Scourge thinks. _If you kill him, you will save a galaxy from a future of irritating headaches._

"I am going to _slaughter _you!" Kira insists, and Doc's eyes go wide.

"But can't you wait to do that until _after _we're married and have children?" he implores. Scourge rolls his eyes so hard he fears he's going to need an optometrist to help him see straight afterwards.

"Everyone _calm down,_" Leya advocates soothingly. "We're all hungry, and being hungry makes everyone a little cranky."

Doc, Scourge and Kira snort together as they observe Leya- who no doubt is as hungry as the rest of them -standing there, looking perfectly content and at peace. The joys of irony, Scourge supposes.

"Fortunately, breakfast is available while we get some unpacking done," the Miraluka continues, turning and going to a table full of pots and pans. Doc follows her, and after sharing a grim look that conveys their identical disdain perfectly, Kira and Scourge move further into the kitchen to join their companions.

Kira whistles, impressed, at the display of food on the back counter.

"Why so much food?" she asks, going up to a large platter of assorted berries and arranged slices of melons. Her stomach growls appreciatively.

"Because Eleya can eat us out of house and home," Doc supplies with a chuckle. He places the sacks of grain in a blue bin on the floor by the counter.

Both Kira and Scourge nod understandingly- despite Leya's slender frame, the woman has an appetite to rival a rancor's. Fortunately, she is as decent a cook as she is a Jedi; and when aboard the _Defender _she is the _de facto _chef consistently enough for everyone to feel safe with their lives _and _their stomachs in her hands.

Leya sticks her tongue out at Doc, before focusing on unwrapping the the bowl and pouring its contents- a sweet smelling batter -into a long silver pan. Doc winks at her.

"Actually, all of this is for us and the other volunteers," Leya explains. Scourge raises an eyebrow. He then makes a point of slowly looking around the kitchen.

"And those _other volunteers _are not here _now _because...?"

"They're still asleep," Doc replies, reaching behind and around Kira to snag a piece of fruit. When his hand returns to him Scott-free (sans one death glare from the red-headed Jedi Knight), Doc waggles his eyebrows and blows her a kiss. (Scourge wonders if it is possible to vomit on an empty stomach.)

"_Asleep?_" Kira asks with feigned surprise. "You don't say!" She then yawns so hard, her eyes start to water. "I can't imagine _why._"

"The early birds get the worms," Leya supplies with a soft chuckle. She finishes pouring and sets the bowl down on the table, wiping her hands clean on the dark brown apron covering her clothing once she's done.

"Why eat worms when you can eat _food?" _Doc demands, before half-walking, half-jogging over to a set of cabinets lined on the far wall. He opens a few, and upon finding one full of clean, stacked plates, lets out a whoop of victory.

"I call _dibs _on the waffles!" Kira yells, moving to help Doc with gathering utensils and setting a nearby bar table for them all. Leya just smiles to herself and makes her way to the counter of food, content to let them settle themselves.

This springs Scourge into action.

"You will have to fight me for them," he sneers at Kira, and finds himself urged to grab a plate before the Knight. Kira actually has the gall to laugh at him.

"In your _dreams, _" she gloats. She grabs a plate from Doc and bolts to the food table, gathering a pile of waffles with gusto. She eyes Scourge, the taunt clear in her look. Scourge starts to feel livid; those waffles look _divine, _so how _dare she-_

"Here."

The sweet smell of warm waffles, with a hint of honey, sweet cream and strawberries, wafts up Scourge's nose. Frozen to the spot, he lowers his eyes to see Leya standing next to him- close enough that her arm nearly touches his and if they speak softly enough they will not be overheard. Doc and Kira get their food and make their way to the table, lost in their own conversation.

Scourge swallows hard.

In Leya's outstretched hands is a rather large plate with neatly stacked waffles, glazed over with thick warm honeysuckle syrup, and topped with strawberries and whipped cream. Next to the waffles are a generous helping of smoked sausages and bacon and... are those a serving of steaming hot _salted grits? _

It is a first time, in a long time, that Scourge finds himself truly, and utterly, speechless.

"Wha-" he tries, and though he seems to have forgotten how to form basic sentences, his motor functions work perfectly well on autopilot. He takes the plate from the Jedi Master, and tries to ignore the flutter of gratitude blooming in the space just behind his rib cage. So what if she gave him a plate full of foods he loved- if simply from nostalgic memory, due to his inability to taste as well as he used to?

Leya lets her arms fall to her sides and offers Scourge a knowing smile.

"I made this for you- saved the best choices once I'd cooked everything." she confides with a shrug. Scourge stares at her dumbly, but Leya doesn't seem to mind in the least as she continues. "Consider this one of my many thanks."

Scourge looks confused.

"And what am I being thanked for?"

Leya waves her hand breezily, as if to encompass the entire kitchen. "For being here. And for helping us with everything."

Scourge sighs.

"I did not- and still _do not _-want to be here, Jedi."

A small, wistful smile tugs at the edge of Leya's lips, and in that split second Scourge realizes he is willing to give anything to know what the Miraluka is thinking.

"But you _are _here. And you _are _helping us. That's what matters." Leya reminds him. Her voice is soft and Scourge isn't sure if she is referring to his being present to help with Festival... or something else entirely. A warm hand settles on his forearm, and squeezes gently.

Scourge finds the fluttering starting to return in his chest and does his best to ignore it. She's still obnoxious when she wants to be, and he hasn't forgiven her for waking him up in the first place.

"And you should know that it means very much to me; you're being here. So..." Leya nods at the plate in his hands and a bit of her usual playfulness finds it way back into her tone. "_Thank you._"

Her hand lingers on his arm, almost absent-minded, and is only pulled away when Doc calls out, "You two gonna eat anytime soon or what?"

Leya tilts her head as if to say, _after you, _and waits for Scourge to start walking to the bar table before she steps in smoothly next to him. Just before they get close enough to the others to be overheard, Scourge finds himself speaking quietly.

"I appreciate your attempts to placate me, _Jedi..._" he pauses, but cannot stop himself from adding (so as to not get her hopes up about his feelings towards her), "That does not dismiss the fact you are entirely _insufferable._"

Next to him, Leya nods almost imperceptibly. Her quiet grin brings her infamous dimples to her cheeks.

"Only for you," she promises, her voice light and touched with a bit of mirth.

Scourge starts, looking at her, but she is already sitting down on Kira's other side where a plate full of fruit and a (large) bowl of oatmeal had been set for her by Doc.

_Maybe this whole celebration event won't prove to be entirely miserable, _Scourge internalizes, feeling the spark of a new hope within him as he sits and gets relatively comfortable among his companions. He's just begun to lift up a nice chunk of waffle to his mouth, when a voice rings out through the kitchen.

"And here I thought _we _were the only early risers."

As Kira, Doc and Leya look to the speaker, Scourge lets his eyes fall close. He thanks the Force that he had enough foresight to leave his lightsabre in his quarters- as did Leya and Kira -otherwise he'd be igniting it right about now.

Lowering the fork, Scourge slowly looks in the direction of his companions' gazes to see Master Satele Shan, and Master Jaric Kaedan entering and walking over to them. Master Satele looks calm and serene as _always, _but Master Jaric's calculating eyes find Scourge's...

... and the fledgling hope of being free from misery in Scourge screams pitifully as it dies a horrible, painful death.

Well.

So much for _that._

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><p><strong>TBC.<strong>

**Uh-oh! Scourge and Jaric in the same room? What's going to happen, I wonder?**

**... why are you looking at me? *shifts eyes* I'm just the writer! LOL.**


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